Three Steps to Salvation
by ohxasphyxiationx
Summary: It just isn't living if you aren't free. And sometimes, life becomes worth living when it's far too late.


**Disclaimer:** The characters mentioned in this story, as well as the game FFXII in itself do not belong to me. They belong to Square Enix and all other respective owners. The plot and situations of this work of fiction do however, belong to me, and duplication or distribution without my consent is prohibited. And illegal. But you already knew all of this, didn't you?

**Author's Note: ** I still listen to my iPod shuffle too much. I've been running this idea over and over again in my mind working on building a story around the song _Cancer_ by My Chemical Romance. What can I say? That song gets to me every time. This is not a songfic, however. It was just inspired by the aforementioned song. Don't ask me why I did this, because I don't know. I **love** Penelo. I don't know why I did this to her. I hope you all forgive me.

***Diagnosis***

Penelo hadn't gotten the answer she wanted.

She knew something was wrong when she started to feel light-headed and dizzy on a daily basis. She had become suspicious when she found herself more tired and fatigued than usual. Sky-pirating was not an easy business, she knew, but she had never felt like this before.

So when she and Vaan had finally made port at Balfonheim, she had decided to take a trip to the nearest hospital. A quick blood test was all she'd need, the doctors assured her, before they could send her home with at most some medication but an otherwise clean bill of health.

But when she saw the doctor walk in with a concerned look on his face, she knew something must have been wrong.

He started with, "I don't know how to explain this," which was enough to make Penelo cringe. Beating around the bush was never a good sign. "But we've detected some sort of cancer."

Penelo's breath left her in a big whoosh and she had to shake her head a few times before she could think straight. She had heard of cancer before; a tale told by parents and grandparents alike, of ancient relatives who had died from the horrible sickness, often as a ploy to get young children to eat their vegetables and lazy children to exercise.

Penelo looked at the doctor, confusion writ across her face.

"But… I thought that cancer was cured a long time ago!" She knew it had been, long before the time of anyone she knew. Even Old Dalan. "You must be wrong," she concluded, looking towards the doctor for some kind of sign that he was, in fact, kidding.

"I wish I was," he said sympathetically. "There is some kind of magick that is causing your cells to multiply at an accelerated rate. Your blood cell counts are not normal. It looks like a cancer of the blood."

Penelo couldn't believe it. Magick had given her the cancer? "I-I don't understand."

"I must ask, Miss-"

"Penelo," she interjected quickly, not wanting to deal with formalities at a time like this. She didn't want to be a patient.

The doctor cleared his throat, before speaking again, "I must ask, Penelo, have you ever come in contact with Nethicite?"

Her stomach must have turned into a five-ton brick because it plummeted to the floor and then crashed right through it. She had been around tons of the stuff all throughout the fight for Dalmasca, without a care. "Y-Yes," the word stumbled out of her mouth, full of trepidation.

"We've had a lot of reports from people all over Ivalice about Nethicite poisoning- infections, rashes, mutations- ranging from mild to severe. But we've never seen anything like this."

Penelo cursed the Gods and her bad luck. She felt her throat tighten as the fear began to set in, but she still had to ask more questions. She did her best to stay composed.

"Is mine… serious?"

The doctor looked troubled. "I'm afraid so," he said, before sitting down next to her and grabbing her hand as if she was somesmall child. "There used to be a cure for cancer, ages ago. Back then, cancer was completely genetic. Yours is caused by Nethecite, a force that is much more powerful that we could ever understand. Everyone who has tried to gain knowledge of it had perished. Even if we knew the treatments people used to use, it wouldn't be of use to you."

Penelo started to feel a little dizzy again.

"So, you mean… there's no hope for me?" Penelo choked out, as she finally allowed the tears to come. Being sick was enough. But not being able to be cured was worse. Far worse.

"We can send you to some specialists. We can ever work hand and hand with scientists studying the Nethicite itself. But I can't promise you either will work, or that they'd be painless."

She shook her head. She didn't want to be sent away. She didn't want to be poked and prodded like a lab rat only to die miserably in the end.

She asked the one question she was afraid to voice.

"How long doe I have, then?:

The doctor looked up at her, his eyes tired and conflicted, trying to decide whether he should tell her or not. His resolve crumbled though, until he spoke the scariest words he'd said yet.

"One year."

Penelo's dizziness got worse and the room spun before everything turned black and she disappeared.

*******

Penelo woke up lying in a small, white room that smelled horribly of antiseptic. She was still in the damned hospital, she knew. She sat up slowly, the movement sending a rush of light-headedness that almost made her fall back onto the pillow. She turned, looking around the room, only to find Vaan sitting on the small chair next to the bed.

He looked right back at her, searching her face for something, any kind of emotion, before he spoke.

"Penelo…"

She didn't want to hear it, not from him, so she swung her legs over the bed neatly and landed gracefully on the linoleum with nothing more than a small thump. "I'm fine Vaan, let's go."

She made her way to the door successfully, but when her hand reached the knob and his hand reached her shoulder, she felt herself breaking.

"Penelo?" Vaan's voice was laced with worry and concern and _fear_, and so many things she never wanted to hear from him. Not after they were free. Not when they had left behind everything that had ever caused them pain.

Vaan was known to be many things. He never said the right things, and said all the wrong things at all the wrong times. He was typically awkward in conversation, especially when there were emotions involved.

But one thing Penelo knew was that Vaan was not stupid. He was never stupid.

She just turned around and turned into nothing more than a quivering, sobbing lump in his arms.

******

They walked in silence, down the now emptying streets of Balfonheim. The moon shined brightly against the still waters. It was almost close enough for Penelo to touch, but still too far. She sighed heavily.

She looked a Vaan, whose brow was furrowed in thought and consternation. She hated to see him like this, knowing all the thoughts and confusion running through his troubled mind. He was feeling almost as much as she was. Almost.

The silence was too much to bear, and she couldn't stand being left alone with her thoughts anymore.

"…Vaan?"

A grunt of acknowledgement left Vaan, who only turned to look at her. She continued to speak.

"I thought I had won," she began, "After helping the Queen and saving our home, I thought I'd won. Like maybe, luck was on my side? I mean after doing all of that, you feel special, you know? Like you're untouchable."

Vaan's lips were set into a tight, grim line, and he said nothing.

"I did all of these things. We fought so many beasts and monsters and powerful people. I avenged my parents, my brothers, Reks… And all I wanted was to start all over again. But I ended up losing anyway."

A bitter laugh left her, and Vaan almost winced at the sound of it.

She grabbed Vaan's hand and squeezed it gently. She sighed loudly before finishing her thought.

"Silly, isn't it? I lived through all of that, and now some stupid disease is going to kill me."

Neither of them said a thing.

*****

The next morning, Penelo stepped out onto the small balcony of the hotel room her and Vaan had booked for their stay in Balfonheim. She couldn't help but wonder if she would ever travel anywhere else again.

She looked at the bustle of the people, moving on with their daily lives, their _healthy_ untroubled lives, as they poured through the Port, carrying heavy barrels and sacks to waiting ships, gossiping among themselves, or even just munching on breakfast. She was so engrossed in watching them- these people that Penelo had once been like, this crowd that she had once been a part of- that she didn't notice Vaan had awoken until she saw him rest his folded arms against the balcony rail.

She didn't say a thing, just continued staring at the crowd of people below her. She didn't know how many minutes had passed- because time had lost its meaning -before Vaan spoke.

"What are you going to do?" He asked, his voice small and afraid. He needed answers, but so did she. She didn't really have much of an answer to give him.

"Nothing," she answered simply. "I'm not going to do anything. This is going to kill me, no matter what I do."

Vaan almost wanted to cry, but he knew that wouldn't do either of them any good. He did his best to gain his composure before speaking again.

"It might work," he said, feigning optimism. "It could work."

"It won't work," Penelo said with a small, sad smile. "I just want to be free."

She looked down at the people and sighed. "Free, just like them! I don't want to live my life stuck in some hospital room feeling so trapped and lonely and afraid that I'll be wishing to die."

Those words sounded terrible, even she knew it. "I… I just want to live like them. I want to live a full life, before I die."

Vaan nodded, before leaving Penelo to her thoughts and heading into the bathroom to cry.

********************

**I still don't know why I wrote this. This is the first of only three parts. The second part is already partially written and I will probably have it done by tomorrow, earliest, but I wanted to kind of see what the reception of this would be.**

**Myself, I've never had cancer. But it runs in my family and I've witnessed a lot of people suffer. I would not be surprised if at some point in my life I am diagnosed with the disease. I am sorry if I've offended anyone who has gone through this, since I do not know from experience how terrible it can be, but I did not write it with these intentions. Still, I apologize. I am not relishing in Penelo's suffering. I am not even enjoying writing this very much. I'm very conflicted about this piece. I don't know whether I should be posting it or not.**

**Still, I will, because inspiration has already struck and I feel this needs to be read. Please, be kind enough to tell me how you feel about this. Anything at all.**


End file.
